A Lesson in Prudence
by The Typing Cat
Summary: How obligated was he to make amends for something he inadvertently did at fifteen years old? Very, according to the mother of his love child. It seems like being Harry Potter doesn't get easier with age.
1. A Letter With No Names

**A/N:** Hello, and welcome to my story. I'll try my best to represent my ship in a favorable light, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. :)

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 _To the man who made me but never wanted me,_

 _I know you're expecting nothing but a slew of scornful abuse for abandoning me, but that's not why I've decided to write you this letter. While I admit your absence left a hole in my life that I have struggled to fill at times, it also taught me some crucial lessons. I think the most important ones were that emotions like anger and bitterness only truly hurt me, and that I gain nothing by obsessing over the things in life that I can't change. It was that last bit that convinced me it was finally time to put my thoughts down on parchment._

 _This might seem a bizarre thing to do, but I want to thank you for not being there for me. From what I've learnt, the people close to you are often caught in unfortunate situations. That's not exactly hard to believe, given my existence. I want you to know that I appreciate the health and freedom you gave me by removing yourself from my life, as those two are worth more to me than any last-minute present I might've received. My childhood was a happy one, and I have you to partially thank for that._

 _Not knowing you was also a blessing in disguise once my first year came around. There was no one there to take credit for my triumphs when I did well at school. My classmates couldn't attribute my achievements to someone else's legacy. My professors never showered me with undue praise. And the Headmistress showed no signs of favoritism towards me. I even made friends from different houses, and none of them encouraged toxic behaviors. It was a different life- a better life- than the one I would've had at your side, I think._

 _I also don't believe I would have been as well-adjusted as I now am had you taken the time to be a father. It certainly doesn't seem to be the case with my half-siblings. The Wizarding World loves to have a good chuckle about how unruly they are, but I don't find the behavior nearly as amusing as they do. I honestly don't believe I would've gotten along with them. We're far too different. I'm relieved to not have to deal with awkward visits and arguments over my less than cordial behavior towards them. I'd rather have no memories of you than unpleasant ones, you see._

 _Do you know what else I'm exceedingly grateful for? That despite having you for a father, I was somehow able to end up with a mother that I'm thoroughly convinced I don't deserve. I believe nothing I do in this life will ever be enough to repay her for everything she's done for me. It's because of her hard work and sacrifice that I know how selfless love can be. And if I ever manage to be half the parent she is when I have children of my own, I will consider myself a success._

 _I wasn't always aware of how good I had it. It took me a bit, but I eventually realized that the dining table at home had always been full, never a person short. I realized I didn't need you to hold my hand on sick days or make everything better when I suffered from nightmares. I didn't need your encouragement to get back on my broomstick after my first botched attempt at flying. I was never really alone. Mum had always been by my side, and she was- still is- more than enough for me._

 _All the parchment in the world wouldn't be enough to describe how wonderful she is. It's not just the long hours she works to provide for me, or the little presents that find their way to my hands when I least expect them. It's the loving embrace at the end of a bad day. It's the way she beams with pride whenever she looks at me. It's the encouraging letter tucked inside my trunk every year, and the hand-knit hats and scarves she sends to keep me warm during winter. Her love for me is as tangible as the quill that sits between my fingers. She's been there for every hiccup, every important milestone in my life. You weren't there, but you weren't missed._

 _She's never said anything bad about you, if you're wondering. I'm not going to lie, I would've loved it if she had. I spent a long time secretly hoping she'd slip up and say something spiteful about you, something I could cling to in order to hate you. She never did, though. Instead of using your mistakes to turn me against you (and I do believe the list is long enough to encircle Hogwarts), she decided to make sure I avoided all the pitfalls you so loved diving into in your youth._

 _I think I can safely say that she succeeded. Maybe I'm just biased, but I believe I've been better in my youth than you ever were. Kinder. Softer. Less willing to judge and more willing to help those who need me. While you don't get to take credit for the boy I've been or the man I'm becoming, I believe it's still something to be proud of._

 _Still, I don't believe I've managed to completely escape your influence. I've struggled with melancholy for as long as I can remember. My locker has dents from where I've kicked it in during fits of anger. I constantly struggle to push doubts and insecurities aside. The only real difference between us is that I've always had people steering me away from my bad habits. I'm not allowed to dawdle in these moods. There's always someone willing to pull me out of that pit and into the light._

 _I know I'm lucky to have these people in my life. My friends make sure I'm never alone, and my family reminds me that I'm very much loved. It was difficult, growing up thinking that something about me was wrong, that I was so unwanted that you chose to walk away from me before I was even born. But that's not true, is it? I'm not broken or unwanted, no matter what that niggling voice in my head says. I've realized this. And if I ever forget the truth, mum will always be there to remind me of just how wanted I am._

 _Did you know that she managed to convince McGonagall to let her visit the castle for my matches after I threatened to quit the team? Because she did just that. Can you believe it? This is McGonagall we're talking about. The same woman who refuses to let parents visit during Christmas. I have no idea how mum managed to finesse her way through, but I'm glad she gets to watch me in action. I'm happy she gets to see the result of all her hard work, and I know I'll always have someone genuinely cheering me on as I play._

 _I suppose that all I really wanted to say here was…thanks._

 _By giving me nothing, you really gave me everything. I wouldn't have this wonderful life had you not denied me the chance to be a part of yours. Your absence taught me that I am more than capable of achieving my goals on my own. It taught me to make better decisions for myself. It made me a better person. And it showed me that I don't need anyone's approval in order to thrive. My world was not stunted the day you left, and it will continue to flourish without you._

 _I sincerely hope you've found happiness alongside the choices you made, because I've found mine beside the one choice you never fought for._

 _Forever Grateful,_

 _The Undaunted_

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 **A/N:** First chapter down! If you enjoyed the chapter, make sure to let me know! I work best under pressure, and am motivated as long as I have someone pushing me on.


	2. A Most Indecent Proposal

A/N _:_ Chapter updated on December 5, 2017.

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 _Unsung Hero,_

 _I hope you're doing well._

 _It feels as if we haven't spoken in ages, which I suppose is true. I'd like to apologize for that. I know you've never been one to make demands, but it still feels like I've neglected you for longer than I should've. I hope you understand that my lack of communication has little to do with the state of our friendship, and everything to do with how hectic life has become as of late. I would love to share a pint at the end of the day, but spare time is a commodity that I'm afraid I no longer have._

 _To be honest, I'd be more than a trifle miffed if a so-called friend dropped out of my life without warning. I would understand if you are a little resentful over my absence. I feel like I should mention that I'm aware of what a shoddy support system I've been through the years. Apologizing for my mistakes is the least I can do, considering what I'm about to ask._

 _That's not much of a surprise, is it? I finally reach out and it's only to ask for a favor. Bloody unfair, I know. I wish I didn't have to drag you along for this, but I'm in desperate need of help. I hope you are far more forgiving than I've been, and that our friendship isn't just another bridge I've managed to burn in this lifetime._

 _Before I go into details, I need you to understand that the contents of this letter were written for your eyes only. The things I'm about to discuss with you are of a delicate nature, and I need you to keep this information to yourself. You might feel tempted to share the situation with your wife, but I rather you didn't. I'm sorry for any discomfort this might cause you. I know how wretched it feels to have to lie to the woman you love, but things will be less stressful if only one of you is involved, trust me._

 _I've been staring at this parchment for hours now, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in a way that won't compromise anyone. I'm sorry about the pseudonyms and the vagueness that will shortly follow, but I don't want to risk exposing anything. I hope you can still make sense of what I'm about to jot down. Anyways, the candle on my desk is burning low, and I'm not sure how long I have before the rest of the household stirs. Better get to it, then._

 _It's an odd request, but I need you to close your eyes and think about our fifth year. Do you remember our band of misfits? Do you remember the names hastily written on a parchment in the middle of that dingy pub? I know it might be a jumbled mess after all these years, but I hope you can still recall those names and attach faces to them accordingly. It must seem like the strangest thing in the world to you right now, but it's important._

 _Things are about to get a bit more complicated now. I need you to pluck a face out from the crowd. Can you picture the person who would sometimes stay behind to help me tidy up after practice? You were more interested in your burgeoning plant collection than paying attention to my comings and goings, but maybe you spotted me ogling in their direction at some point. My infatuation was horribly transparent. It's embarrassing, but I hope you can use this clue to your advantage and remember who it is I'm talking about. It's crucial that you remember her._

 _Friend, this will be my final warning. Unless you want to be part of something potentially scandalous, I urge you to stop reading now. Get rid of the letter. Jam it in a fireplace or feed it to the giant squid- I don't care. Just make sure that it is utterly destroyed. There needs to be no trace of the letter left if you want to have no part in this, because it doesn't get any better from here on out._

 _This might come as a surprise, but I know that I was a bit of an arse during my time at Hogwarts. Our fifth year was a particularly difficult one for me. I really can't excuse my behavior. I dealt with my frustrations by swallowing them until I felt myself choking, and then allowed them to escape in ugly ways. I became as toxic as the people who had grudgingly raised me._

 _My anger had no outlet. I couldn't change the past, I couldn't bring back the dead, and I couldn't even speak of what had happened at the end of the previous school year without seeing sneers out the corners of my eyes. It often felt like the world was against me. And I decided to take my anger out on my friends. I know it was stupid of me. You guys had nothing to do with the trainwreck my life had become. I was impulsively thoughtless in my youth._

 _That same thoughtlessness is to blame for my current situation._

 _I somehow managed to find a small source of happiness, and with someone who I had always considered wildly beyond my reach. My abysmal existence was suddenly less daunting. I didn't feel as alone anymore. There were some initial hiccups that led to some very public displays of ineptitude on both sides, but things began to smooth out after a bit. It was quite lovely. Probably one of the nicest things that I had ever experienced. And just when I thought things couldn't get any better, they did._

 _I don't remember what my thought process was at the time. I'm not sure there was much thinking involved, to be honest. Not with the head that mattered, anyways. It's one of those things you don't question while it's happening because you're too distracted to think about the consequences. I wish I had, though. I wish I could shake my younger self- just enough to help my addled brains back into place. But I can't very well do that now, can I? Nothing can change what I did, or the embarrassment I feel as I'm writing this._

 _The past is set in stone, but my future is looking a tad dicey._

 _You see, I received a letter this last Friday. This isn't unusual, as most people have letters delivered to them during the week, but I wouldn't be penning this letter if it hadn't been something out of the ordinary. By sheer dumb luck or blessings from some benign entity, I had decided to retrieve the letter myself instead of sending one of the kids out to fetch it. I'm glad I did, because I managed to get my hands on something strange._

 _The letter that now constantly accompanies me is an unquestionably odd find. It has no address scribbled at its front, no tell-tale family crest pressed into the wax at its back. I missed its delivery, so I didn't even catch a glimpse of the creature that left it by my doorstep. I knew absolutely nothing about the identity of the sender or the letter's contents, and it was the most fascinating thing that had happened to me in, well, I can't remember how long._

 _I was almost embarrassingly excited about the blasted thing. Finding out what mysteries the letter contained was certainly more appealing to me than idly waiting for my brothers-in-law to arrive at their parent's house. I decided to tuck it inside my pocket and discreetly read it while I waited outside at the picnic table. The wife hates it when I bring work home, you see. I knew she'd be furious if she caught me perusing something during a family event. I regret not listening to her this time around._

 _I had to leave the event._

 _Because I disappeared without a word, my wife has decided to ban me from the bedroom until I'm ready to discuss whatever has been eating at me since that day. I'm not ready to talk about anything. I've barely come to terms with it myself. I wish I'd left the damned letter at home. I wish I hadn't read it when I did. I should've enjoyed my family and extra day off work instead of ruining it because I was bored. I'm masochistic like that, I suppose. I mean, why should I enjoy my free time with the people I love when I can just piss them off instead, right? Well, I did just that._

 _I read the letter and felt my blood run cold in my veins._

 _This thing accuses me of something that is entirely possible, and entirely my fault. I can't sleep. I can barely keep food down. I'm constantly fighting dizzy spells and headaches. I nearly botched an important mission the other day, as well. This is affecting every aspect of my life, and I don't think I can't function like this for much longer. I don't know how to proceed, so I decided to swallow my pride and ask for help._

 _The person I asked you to remember earlier, can you recall her again? Merlin knows I can. She's all I've thought about for the past week. Memories of her haunt me when I least expect it. It's hard to look at my wife kids and not see flashes of what could've been. But don't worry. I'm not experiencing an early midlife crisis. You don't have to be concerned about how devoted I am to my family. I'm just a little distressed about the past._

 _Was fifteen years old and the world revolved around me. At least that's what it often felt like. I was an unlikely hero, champion of champions and an unwilling participant in someone else's twisted story. I knew I would never be normal, that I would grow up envying how mundane my friend's lives seemed to be. But, for a short time, that changed. I wasn't just fifteen and burned with the task of keeping the Wizarding World upright. I was fifteen, and I had the pleasure of being smitten with someone who returned my affections. I got to experience something so normal that it was almost too extraordinary for me._

 _I was offered the opportunity to play the part of knight in shining armor, and I eagerly stepped up to the role without realizing that it was too complicated for me. I failed wretchedly at it. It would be comical if it wasn't all so terrible. It turns out that my damsel in distress needed more than awkwardly pats in the back during bad days and sloppy snog sessions on her good ones. What did I know about that, though?_

 _Now I'm wondering if I left her with more than just bitter memories and low expectations for love._

 _Our brief moments of happiness might've transmuted into a lifelong commitment that I was not made aware of. I might've accidentally brought someone into the world before I even knew my proper place in it. There might be someone out there who shares my looks but not my last name. And this child, who isn't to blame for what happened between his parents or for being brought into the world under such complicated circumstances, now makes claims of abandonment. And his underlying frustration is so palpable, so eerily familiar to me…_

 _I can't guarantee the letter's legitimacy. This might just be a mix up. Making me squirm by jabbing at parts of my past that I've been pushing aside for years might be some bastard's idea of fun. Maybe someone found out about what I did and is trying to blackmail me for riches that I genuinely don't possess. I don't care either way. The thought has been placed in my head. I need to know if there's any truth to what's been said, and I need your help to do it._

 _What I'm asking you to do is not particularly legal. It might not involve slaying serpents with legendary swords, but the situation is just as precarious. I need to gain access to the school records somehow. I need you to go through the student list and find if anyone there shares my looks or that of the girl I was sweet on. I hope you don't need me to name names to do it._

 _I know this is all a bit mad, and I wouldn't blame you if you decided to not step into this mess, but I have no plans of stopping this quest until I find the truth. If I truly have a child out there, I can't just sit here and pretend it doesn't exist. I've been that kid, the one wondering and waiting for the parent that will never arrive, and I won't allow him carry that hurt for the rest of his life. Maybe the world wouldn't know or care about a by-blow, but I would._

 _I will deal with the consequences of my actions. I will take responsibility for the pain that I knowingly and unknowingly inflicted. I just need him to know that I would've gladfully torn myself new scars for a chance at being his father. I didn't know. I would've never abandoned him. I need him to understand that._

 _I will walk to the castle, barge through the doors and demand the student list from McGonagall herself if I must. I really hope it won't come to that, though. Please save me the trouble of having to thrust him and his mother into the spotlight by doing something drastic. The media is cruel and rarely forgiving, and I'm just trying to do right by them._

 _Sincerely,_

 _The Dumbest Lion in the Den_

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A/N: The rest of the story is still being overhauled. It isn't abandoned, I promise. :p


	3. The Threat of Paucity

A/N: It seems short chapters are the only way I can post without feeling overwhelmed. Bah, anxiety.

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Harry tapped his foot impatiently beneath the table he'd chosen inside the Leaky Cauldron and cast a solemn glance in the direction of the door. It had opened and closed numerous times since he had first arrived an hour ago, but his friend had not been amongst the stragglers stopping by for a much-needed respite from the outside chill. Blowing out a frustrated sigh as a curly-haired wizard sat at the bar, Harry turned back to the plate before him and idly flicked at its edge with his thumb.

The hearty bowl of soup and the bread set at its edge would have normally been heaven for him after a long day at the office, but his appetite had been close to nonexistent for the past two weeks. In truth, he only had it because Hannah had set it in front of him and worriedly whispered something about how thin he looked. The smell was making him nauseous but it seemed rude not to take the plate and thank her when her husband was putting their life together on the line for him.

The bell above the door rang again and he looked once more, hoping that this time Neville's good-natured face would greet him. No such luck. A couple carrying several black robes across their arms and their two beaming would-be students stepped through the doorway and waved at Hannah as she beamed at them from behind the bar. Harry flicked at his food plate a second time and sank deeper into his chair. He didn't have to posses Hermione's wit to see that the situation was not looking promising.

Neville hadn't exactly agreed to the ludicrous plan Harry had proposed when he'd finally replied, but his friend had said that he would attempt to pry some information from the school archives during his breaks from work. That almost-promise had been good enough for Harry and he'd immediately set up a meeting at the Cauldron after giving him a week to work on the assignment. However, Harry had been sitting there for what seemed like an eternity with no sign from Neville and his anxiety was beginning to sink its claws in deep.

Could he truly blame someone who had nothing to do with his mishap for not showing up? Neville had always been so reserved and withdrawn that Harry knew he'd made the man's life a nightmare just by sharing this grim situation with him. It was one thing to do something behind your wife's back, but doing it right in front of her face as she happily worked a few feet away was another matter altogether. Ginny and Hannah were both innocent victims of his immense stupidity. This convoluted mess should've been his problem. His and his alone.

A wave of regret washed over him. He picked up the glass of firewhisky he had ordered and swallowed half of it in a large gulp before setting it back on the table while simultaneously pushing the plate of cold food away. It wasn't fair, what he'd done. Neville shouldn't have to lie to Hannah, who always brought over a drink or complimentary plate of food whenever they crossed paths at the Cauldron, and he'd been a shit friend to even ask something like that of him when he hadn't even managed to make it to their wedding.

He placed a few coins for Hannah's trouble on the table and was about to leave when the crisp chime of the bell rang over the noise in the room. The impulse to look was so ingrained that he immediately craned his neck in the direction. A warm wave of relief that had little to do with the flames crackling in the nearby fireplace came flooding in as Neville's blond head popped from beneath the black bowl hat he'd been wearing. He ran a hand over an unshaven jaw and smiled as his wife moved to plant a kiss on him, then looked around in a manner that was entirely too casual to be discreet.

"Oh, thank the stars." Harry ran a hand through hair that had grow overtly long since he'd first received the letter and watched as Hannah sent her husband in his direction. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Neville."

"Yeah." Neville plopped down on the opposite side of the table and set his hat next to the plate of food, a weak smile on his bristly face. "You too, Harry."

"I appreciate the lie." While Neville looked horribly uncomfortable, his arrival let Harry know that he hadn't made a mistake by confiding in him. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, please let me know."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. It's no trouble…" Neville nodded in his direction but trailed off as he spotted the half-finished glass of alcohol before him. He blinked and ran his tongue across his lower lip. "Hannah doesn't let me drink anymore."

"Ah." He'd heard rumors about his friend's struggles with drink. Harry himself had almost lapsed into alcoholism shortly after the war had ended. He normally didn't encourage bad habits, but Neville looked like he needed it. Besides, there wasn't much of it left. "Feel free to finish it."

"Cheers." Neville made sure his wife wasn't looking at them before hastily finishing the glass. Thirst slaked and the itch scratched, he turned to Harry with a tight smile still in place. "Life is sort of strange, isn't it?"

"I..." That was an odd thing to say. "I suppose."

Without so much of a word, Neville picked up the cutlery and pulled out his wand to warm the food before eating a spoonful. "How are you doing?"

Honestly? He felt like curling up in his bed and wasting away beneath the sheltering embrace of his coverlet. But that was hardly something the Head of the Auror's Department should be saying out loud. As far as the world knew, Harry Potter's life was perfect. "As well as I can be."

"Yeah…" He ate in silence for a couple of minutes and stopped to smile as his wife came over with a mug of butterbeer for him and another glass of firewhisky at Harry's request. When she was finally gone again, Neville gestured for another sip of alcohol and sat back as he casually sipped. "Have you told anyone about it?"

"Just you." He'd been tempted several times to confide in Hermione. He'd almost confessed after finding himself alone with her while Ginny helped Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. But Hermione was also Ginny's best friend and he wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to keep it a secret for long. "You?"

"Not a soul."Neville shook his head slowly. "Besides, Hannah would probably die of shock if I told her what I was up to."

"So you did it, then?" Protecting his glass of firewhisky from his overeager friend suddenly became less interesting. Harry scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned in to better hear him. "Well?"

"This can't get out, Harry." Neville began to search the inside pockets of his coat, his eyes skating over his wife's form as she laughed at something the curly-haired wizard Harry had seen enter the pub earlier said. "You're not the only one whose marriage is on the line."

His stomach unexpectedly churned with dread at the thought. If good-natured Neville was struggling to keep his marriage afloat when Hannah seemed so happy to see him, what hope did his own crumbling marriage have once word of his indiscretion got out? A disconcerting thought, to be sure. "Of course, Neville"

"I tried being as subtle about it as I could." He finally pulled something out and set it on the table. It was folded and Harry couldn't make out what little he saw written on it in its current state. "I saw a Corner in this year's list, so I checked for siblings on a hunch. Found a girl about a year or so younger than…the letter's writer should be."

"Gin's ex?" Harry sat back silently and waited for him to unfold the parchment while wondering just what Neville was doing chasing after Corner's kids. Cho and Corner hadn't been particularly affectionate when he'd last seen them. She had, however, stood right beside him after arriving at the castle before the battle of Hogwarts. "Are they married?"

"As far as I know, they never even had a relationship." Neville shrugged. "The Ravenclaws almost always came into the DA sessions together. I think he was just making sure she was okay. I don't even know how that dating rumor started, to be honest. I never saw them together while I was looking at Luna."

"Oh." Harry suddenly remembered his wife had been the one to tell him about Cho and Michael. He had never really questioned it because, well, he hadn't seen much of Cho after their fight. He'd been peeved with her as well, so he hadn't really cared. "So, erm, what does that have to do with me, then?"

"Corner liked Edgecombe. I heard rumors about them eloping during Christmas but they were never seen together. Their oldest was apparently born shortly after our seventh year began." Harry nodded in order to let Neville know he'd understood, but still had no idea why the information was important. "I figured they'd still be friends, so I decided to see if the kid was in the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."

Still, nothing clicked. "Ah."

"I thought that maybe their kids would be friends. Friends help friends. You put Ron on the team even when he was blatantly awful at it, didn't you?" Neville must've seen the confusion on his face because his words were deliberately slow, as if he were talking to a child. His smile was suddenly genuine. "I found what I was looking for. Except…I don't know what to make of it."

Harry's pulse was drumming so hard against his eardrums that he'd barely been able to make out Neville's words. Green eyes fixed themselves on the item his friend was leisurely tapping. What he'd first thought to be a piece of parchment had revealed itself to be the back of a picture after Neville flipped open. He could see movement and the blue of the uniforms belonging to the Ravenclaw team...but little else. He swallowed thickly and met Neville's troubled gaze.

"It might just be a coincidence-"

"What is it, Neville?" The question came out sharper than he intended. He cleared his throat, extended his hand and tried again in a less aggressive tone. "Let me have a look."

"Well, you see," Harry made an impatient sound and immediately pushed his drink across the table. He would buy Neville as many rounds as he wanted if it sped up the whole ordeal. "It's the oddest thing. I tend to forget faces after the first year, but I suddenly remembered…"

Neville finally pushed the picture across the table. Harry immediately snatched it and pulled it so close to his face that it almost collided with his glasses. The teens were all dark haired and the picture had been taken from a distance. He was barely able to make out any distinguishing features.

His temper resurfaced. He set the picture down and failed to keep irritation from coloring his words. " _What's weird, Neville_?"

Neville took the glass he had offered but refused to meet his searching eyes. "Turn the picture around, Harry."

He immediately obliged. The team had all signed the picture with their names and positions in the team. He traced the neatly scrawled words with his fingers until he neared the end of the paper…and his heart seized as he reached the very bottom. _Chang_. His ears began to ring, the pulse that had been steadily tapping there becoming less noticeable as the new high-pitched sound smothered it.

"Neville…" His fingers shook as he turned the picture around and stared at it, unsure if what he'd read had been real or a trick of the dim light around them. He felt quite sick to his stomach. The little alcohol he'd drunk rose to his throat in the shape of bitter tasting bile. "Neville, there's two of them there."

 _Oh, Bollocks_.

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A/N: Chapter three, up! I know it sounds a little like it, but I'm not making Ginny awful, I promise. x3 R&R, please. ^-^


	4. When Life Hands You Lemons

A/N: The third bit has been completely redone. A lot of the elements are still there but I added quite a bit of material.

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 _"We really should head out, Harry." She looked deliciously disheveled as she sat up and wrapped the blanket that had been covering them around her torso. Her fingers went up to her face, first to brush the stray hairs that had shifted during their physical rendezvous and later to dab sleepily at her eyes. "The sun is probably down and my team reserved the pitch for practice tomorrow morning."_

 _"But it's so nice in here." He grinned impishly and flopped back into the bed of silky cushions behind them. While he hadn't been entirely convinced about their usefulness when Hermione had first suggested they gather them for practice, he had to admit they had proven to be quite useful for more enjoyable activities. "And Hermione and Ron won't come looking for me for at least another hour."_

 _"I can't say the same for Marietta." She settled beside him despite the comment and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Her breath was warm and tickled as she gave a little sigh of contentment, and the hairs on his arms and legs stood on end for reasons that had nothing to do with the chilly temperature of the room. "And I don't think the team will be thrilled if I get there late. Davies will pitch a fit."_

 _While he didn't much care for what Davies thought of anything, he took a moment to consider who the Marietta girl was. With a grimace he realized that Cho was probably talking about the curly-haired Ravenclaw that kept glaring at him throughout the D.A. sessions. "Your friend doesn't like me much, does she?"_

 _"It's a bit more complicated than that. Besides, Ginny Weasley stares at me, too. " A ghost of a kiss brushed against his collarbone and the hand she'd placed on his navel began to stroke the spot idly. The touch was innocent enough. Still, his unruly body stirred beneath the gentle ministrations. "Harry...are we okay?"_

 _"Erm..." He wasn't sure he liked direction in which the conversation was headed. He glanced down as the silky mass of hair beneath his chin and tried to make out her face, hoping she wasn't about to burst into tears while completely bare beside him. That would certainly ruin his good mood. And they hadn't argued in ages as well...with a mental sigh and an awkward pat on her side, he finally shrugged. "Yeah. Why?"_

 _"I just wanted to be sure." She looked up from beneath his chin and he was relieved to find no trace of tear streaks on her cheeks. Cho shifted beside him and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, her eyes twinkling beneath the long lashes that framed them. "Harry, I really need to do my homew-"_

 _He cut her off with a kiss._

* * *

"I wish murder wasn't frowned upon." Cho rubbed her thumb between her brows and braced her remaining hand on her knee. "Or, y'know, illegal."

A sleepy murmur of agreement swept through the otherwise silent waiting room. The team had been spread across the small seating area for at least two hours and, if the sluggish shuffle of paper in the adjoining room was any indication, they would probably be there for several more. No one in the room had caught a wink of sleep since the previous morning and tempers had begun to flare during their tedious wait inside the Department of Magical Law enforcement. The hard chairs and absurdly cold temperature of the room hadn't helped, either.

She folded her arms over her chest, glad that she'd decided on bringing her leather jacket when she'd left for work the previous day, and cast a critical eye over her team. One of the chasers had moved a chair out of the way so he could collapse in the corner of the room and nap. Her keeper and two beaters struggled to keep their heads from bobbing aimlessly as they fought of the insistent tug of sleep. Her other two chasers, Myra and Quint, had picked up some week-old copies of the Prophet and had kept themselves busy with them for most of their stay there. Their seeker, however, had kept to himself in the chair closest to the Auror's Department and was unusually subdued as he looked at her from across the room.

While the frigid temperature of the room _had_ helped to soothe her temper, she had meant what she'd previously said about murder. She wasn't just angry at the embarrassed man in the other end of the room- anger she could manage in the presence of others- she was _absolutely_ , _positively_ _furious_. If they hadn't been forcefully confined to the Ministry of Magic while several branches of Law Enforcement sorted out the aftermath of his drunken fight, she might've cheerfully strangled him. She could still do it. All she had to do was wait until the Ministry workers gave them the clear to head out and she could conk him across the head with a broomstick until her ire was placated.

Cho smiled coolly at him as she tapped her foot against the polished marble floor and he rapidly adverted his gaze. Maybe a beating would force those scrambled brains of his back into place and he'd stop being so annoyingly impulsive. It wasn't that his actions hadn't been justified at the time of the brawl. His adversary had pulled his wand out on him and Alex had a right to defend himself. No, she couldn't fault him for keeping himself safe. She could, however, be completely pissed with the fact that the whole incident could've been avoided had Alex had ignored the man's heckling and focused on the game they had been watching. His tart reply had stirred the drunken lout in the corner from his chair and then...then _this_.

The building had caught fire and the Ministry had been alerted. They had rounded up the team and Alex's adversary outside. The tipsy lot had then been forced to sit side-by-side on the edge of the pavement across the burning building with several grim-looking ministry officials hovering over them. Once the fire had been put out, the team had been escorted back to the Ministry of Magic to face charges. Several lengthy interrogations had followed, and they had been asked to politely sit while they sorted through the evidence afterwards. It _was_ better than a night spent in Azkaban. It _was not_ preferable to the comforts of her bed.

Duels were still considered highly illegal. Even though the team had claimed Alex had done it in self-defense, Cho had caught a glimpse of the word hastily scribbled on one of the worker's notes and grimaced. She hoped the propitiator of the bar had witnessed the incident and would not rule against them, but the sinking feeling on the pit of her stomach wasn't very reassuring. The rotund git that had forced Alex into action looked like he had crawled out of a trash bag in an alleyway. Pressing charges against him would undoubtedly get the owner a pittance in return. As Cho didn't think he wanted to be put of business because of two bickering idiots, she suspected the man would place the blame entirely on the team.

Not only would he net himself some attention from the media if he did this, but the team's manager would be forced to pay a hefty sum for the damages. Chris was already struggling to balance out the destruction left behind by his gambling father in order to keep the team and the reserve players they had hired going strong. This incident might affect more than just how the world viewed the Tornadoes. Chris might have to get rid of some reserve players. Hell, _she_ might be out of a job. Cho slanted a glare at Alex, but he'd bowed his head into his hands and was oblivious to the gesture. She should really have a talk with Chris about their seeker's growing recklessness. Maybe she could even get him agree to some sort of change in the man's contract.

Alex's behavior was becoming troublesome. Cho didn't know why she hadn't done anything about it until now, but she suddenly regretted her decision. It wasn't like her to postpone the inevitable, yet she'd held off his suspension from the team for as long as possible. Maybe it was because she knew that his longtime girlfriend had quit on the relationship and she saw bits of her past self in Alex as he grieved the loss. Not everyone processed heartbreak the same way. Alex had taken to drinking. Cho had developed a temper that had taken her years to overcome. It still slipped from time to time, especially when the team did something incredibly stupid or her kids found new and exciting ways to land themselves in detention while at school.

She tipped her head back on the chair and shifted, trying to keep her butt from going numb. Merlin, these chair seemed to be made from stone. How could something that looked so plush feel harder than steel? Her backbone protested as she tried to place most of her weight on one side, and she shifted back to her previous position after another attempt at accommodating herself yielded poor results. It wasn't fair. She hadn't even planned on going out for drinks. But Myra's birthday was coming up and she'd insisted on dragging her along to the bar for a couple of pre-celebration shots. Cho thought she might have a beer or two and then apparate back at her house, but fate had decided to saddle her with a git for a seeker and a slab of concrete for a chair.

A groan suddenly rang across the room. Myra and Quint glanced up from their newspapers just as Basil sat up in the corner and shot his teammate a baleful glare. "Next time you feel like setting a pub on fire, just shove your wand up your arse sideways and save us the trouble of keeping you alive."

"You need to shut your pasty face up!" Invigorated by the barb, Alex jumped to his feet and puffed his chest out. "It's not like I wanted to spend the night at the Ministry! I have stuff to do as well, you gimp!"

"I might be pasty, but at least I can fly in a straight line." Basil shrugged off the insult and grinned, though there was nothing pleasant about the gesture. "I don't even know why they keep you around. You're just dead weight. Nobody's gonna take us seriously if our seeker can barely get off the ground on account of being three sheets to the wind."

"That's quite enough out of both of you." Honestly, it was disappointing to have to use the same tone on two grown men that she used on her kids. At thirty-one and twenty-eight, they should both be past scolding. "Before I ground you both for what's left of the season and replace you with the reserve players."

Both men immediately went silent but didn't stop sulking as they glared daggers at each other. It was just like watching two unruly toddlers fighting over a toy. They were just as difficult to manage, too. Cho wondered if they knew just how ridiculous they looked sitting there, hands crossed over their chests and petulant pouts on their lips, while everyone else quietly waited for the issue to resolve itself. The members of team usually got along, but they had their moments. Even though her job was to coach and keep them in good shape during and after the Quidditch season, she'd unfortunately been forced to play peacemaker whenever they decided that, _no_ , they didn't particularly like each other one day. It was during moments like these that she was strangely grateful for the experience she'd gained while dealing with the stubborn teenagers waiting for her back home.

"Miss Chang?"

"Hrm?" She straightened in her chair with a wince as the area around her coccyx throbbed and nodded primly at the head peering from beyond the doorframe. "What can I help you with, Sir?"

The boy couldn't have been more than three or four years older than her own son. He blushed as she addressed him and fidgeted with the paper in his hands. "Um, my boss wants to have a word with you in his office."

"Ah." _Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all_. Her eye gave a nasty twitch as she realized that she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon, but she nodded. The young Auror waited in silence as she turned back to Alex and Basil, one finger lifting in a stern manner. "Behave or you'll both be feeling wands up sideways where Basil previously mentioned."

Alex and Basil seethed in silence as she stood up and crossed into the main office.

* * *

Harry dreamt of her.

Through slow blinks and temporary lapses in consciousness, her face would come into view. Sometimes she'd be standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement, crystalline tears trickling down her cheeks. She would sit across from him at nightfall, bursts of pink confetti fluttering about her delicate face as Harry nervously talked himself into reaching out for her hand. She would lie quietly by his side while he dozed off at the office, her curtain of shiny dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she worked on that day's assignment. He would see her whenever he covered his aching eyes during lunch breaks, the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks so vivid that he could almost feel the imprint of a kiss against his chapped lips.

Harry slumped into his chair and stared blankly at the picture that hung on the nearby wall. He must've been about nineteen at the time, since Ron was still by his side as he shook hands with Kingsley. Harry only looked marginally older in the picture than the boy awkwardly trying to gain the approval of the Ravenclaw girl who haunted his dreams. He wondered why he couldn't shake the image of her, and why it was that he'd encapsulated her so young and vulnerable in his mind. Cho Chang was a year older than him. He should be picturing a woman grown, not the sweet-faced girl he'd fallen head over heels for at the tender age of thirteen.

It wasn't as if their paths had crossed after the war. The last time he'd seen her she had been sitting on a bench just outside the Great Hall, her face cupped in her hand as she glanced at the faux sky above them. The events that had followed the battle of Hogwarts had been a blur. It was hard to remember if she'd stayed behind to help or if she'd left shortly after the final battle. Harry had been more concerned with the Weasley family, now one twin short, to worry about anyone else. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think she'd shown up for the unveiling of a plaque bearing the names of the students who'd joined the DA, either. He had been too distracted with the hodgepodge of emotions still roiling inside him a year after the battle to even make a note of her absence. Then he'd gotten engaged to Ginny, they had married and later moved in together…

Harry's ears barely registered the insistent tapping of his foot against the floor as he leaned over the desk and stared at the smoothed-out letter on the surface. Even if it later proved to be a hoax, Harry doubted the revelation would do much to ease his growing guilt. Nothing would change the fact that he'd selfishly taken what she'd offered in good faith and then left her. Like she was a thing he'd grown bored of. It wasn't true _. God, it wasn't true._ He had loved her in his own unique, stunted way. But that was exactly how it had played out, wasn't it? He had gotten what he wanted and he hadn't even bothered to make things right after a stupid argument. He'd just watched her from a distance, still slightly nervous at the sight of her but too tired of bickering to reach out and give the relationship another shot.

She might've been pregnant. While he was busy nursing his wounded ego, she might've been struggling with morning sickness. When he'd seen her chatting with Davies in the pitch before the game, Cho might've been forcing herself to fly despite her nervous suspicions. Bludgers had pelted towards her. The Gryffindor team had done everything in their power to stop her from getting the snitch. And his child could've been growing inside her. The image it conjured was absolutely terrifying. Harry wouldn't have allowed her to play if he had been aware of the pregnancy. But instead of protecting her, he had been completely oblivious to her state.

The need to violently strike at something rushed through him. Harry's fists curled next to the letter and he squeezed tightly. It wasn't fair. He hadn't known. But the fact that he wasn't entirely to blame for the situation did little to stop the images flashing before his eyes even after he'd squeezed them shut. She had become exceedingly fragile after Cedric's death. Harry knew it must've been a nightmare for her to raise their child when death had always been just around the corner for him. He couldn't help but to wonder if she had been struggling in front of his eyes and he had been too daft to realize it. He'd heard her skills as a seeker had gone down significantly, but had other things changed as well? Had her grades suffered because of it? Had she even been able to enjoy her last year while raising a child without his help?

The voice in his head reminded him that he would not have been of much use to her. Harry's last two years had been plagued with attacks and unfortunate situations. He hadn't even been able to finish his seventh year. But…but maybe he could've provided her with something else. Kids were time consuming and expensive. He wasn't drowning in gold, but he could've bought them a couple of gifts. A ring seemed like a good idea, since they had moved from dating to being responsible for creating a life. And Harry was well aware of his lack of finesse, but he _did_ know Cho liked being held. His nights would've been immeasurably better with her curled up by his side, too. He had been so emotionally exhausted, so lonely…and he had allowed an unexpected chance at happiness to walk away from him.

 _To the man who made me but never wanted me,_

If only he knew just how incorrect that assumption was. _I would've moved mountains for a chance to hold you in my arms._ _I would have given anything just to watch you fall asleep in your crib, safe from the horrors that I was forced to endure as a child._ _I would've given you everything you wanted and more. I would've married your mother, and we would've been happy together._ Their happiness would've been short-lived- he still would've been forced to spend a year away from them as he searched and destroyed the horcruxes- but the elopement and birth of his son would've been a pocket of calm within the storm. Because family meant _everything_ to him, and Harry would have never abandoned his wife and child.

 _I just wanted you to know that my mother has made my life perfect._

 _How like you, Cho, to overcome everything._ The ghost of a self-deprecating smile hovered at the corner of his lips. In a way, they had always been well-matched. She was stubborn and loyal to a fault. It didn't surprise him that she had managed to raise his child without him. She would be too proud to ask for help, too. Regardless of what he thought about the predicament, he couldn't help but to feel a twinge of admiration. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe the Indomitable Harry Potter was destined to be forever haunted by the sins he'd committed in his youth. Cho had always been the caring one, the soft one. And he had thrived by forming a stone wall around himself. Merlin, he was doing an awful job with the children he'd made on purpose. Gods knew how their child would've fared with a father who kept everyone at arm's length. Harry didn't neglect his family on purpose. He worked long hours to _provide_ for them. _Because_ he loved them.

" _Shit._ " He dragged his hands across the greying hair at his temples and began the process of folding the parchment. "Why am I so utterly useless?"

Harry had studied the letter so vigorously during the time it had been in his possession that the ink had begun to fade at the creases. There was something comforting about seeing the neat scrawl scratched inside, even if the contents had been a little hard to swallow at first. The idea that his maybe-son had reached out to him despite the fact that Harry had bungled up his relationship with the boy's mother to the point where she'd neglected to inform him of his impending fatherhood was…nice. Now that he knew about the child he could finally work on making amends. Because he couldn't really blame Cho for what she'd done. Not only was being around him liable to get anyone killed, he'd also been an absolute pillock. Cho had been right to put their child's needs before his. It killed him to admit it, but he hadn't even been close to being a good boyfriend. He probably wouldn't have been much better as a father.

It seemed like the list of reasons why he didn't like himself very much kept growing.

He wished he could summon the guilt that had been keeping him awake for most of the month. It would prevent his heavy eyelids from drooping. The office had been suspiciously slow for about a week and there wasn't really much for him to do, but he couldn't exactly doze off on his desk when he had an office to run. Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily and settled for staring at the picture next to his ink bottle. He wondered who'd taken the thrice-damned picture. The faces were still unrecognizable and, even though he knew the players would never cross the length of the pitch and reveal their identities, he still checked on it whenever he could. He even snuck into the bathroom from time to time while at home to look at it, much to his wife's chagrin. He blamed it on stomach acid, which was a half-truth thanks to his stressful job, but he tried to be careful not to linger for too long in the room. He didn't want Ginny to become suspicious. And what could he possibly say to her when all he had was a shoddy picture and an unsigned letter?

 _Hey, Ginny, you remember Cho Chang, right? The girl I was obsessed with for three years? My ex-girlfriend? I sort of shagged her and knocked her up. Anyways, what's for dinner tonight?_ That conversation would _not_ end well. And, as he had grown quite fond of life, he wasn't going to chance being murdered by his irate wife until he was absolutely sure of the child's existence. With a grimace, Harry flipped the picture over and brushed a finger across the names at the bottom. _Chang_. Neat penmanship, almost identical in appearance. The differences in each signature were slight- the curve of the letter _n_ and the tail on the letter _g_ \- but he'd seen them. He didn't know why this was important. Maybe he cared about it because he knew he would never be able to tell their owners apart by looking at them in person.

"Sir?" Despite Pritchard's soft voice, Harry's soul nearly left his body at the intrusion. He hadn't even heard the door open. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need you to sign some documents."

 _Merlin, would it kill him to knock_? Harry cleared his throat and nodded as the young Auror walked towards him. Pritchard placed the folder down, nearly dragging the picture along with it as he slid it towards him. "What's this?"

"Another open and shut case." Pritchard was a bit red around the ears, but Harry attributed it to the change of temperature between the main office and the stuffy closeness of his personal one. "We were called in case back up was needed, but everything has been resolved. Just an accidental fire, Boss."

"Ah." Harry flipped the file open and scanned the page. Everything inside it seemed to match what Pritchard had described, so he placed his signature the bottom of the page beside that of a _Mr. Murdoch_ and closed it. "Is this all?"

"Yes, Sir." Pritchard took the folder back and hesitated for a second. "Cid brought Roman out from his office so he could get an autograph from the team."

"Team?" Why on earth would Roman Sinclair from the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects Office want his team's autograph? "Why?"

"The Tutshill Tornadoes, Sir." Harry's blank stare made Pritchard lean closer to the desk. "The Quidditch team. The Magical Law Enforcement squad brought them in after their seeker got into a fight. Lit the place up like a candle, he did. At first we thought it was duel. It urned out to be a case of self-defense. Should be out in a minute. Dalton already told Miss Chang that Mr. Murdoch will face charges of negligence and magical misuse if he pulls a stunt like this again."

"What did you say?" His heart was suddenly beating a million times per second. He wondered if he'd heard right or if he had become so obsessed that his personal problems were now slowly bleeding into his professional life. "I didn't quite catch that. Did you say Chang?"

"Uh, yes, Sir." Pritchard opened the folder and flipped to the second page. A list of witnesses had been scribbled in the back, along with the names of the offenders and the damaged establishment's proprietor. "Here she is. I almost dropped the file when I first saw her, Sir. She's awfully pretty, that one."

Pritchard mouth was moving again, but Harry had stopped listening long before the man's lips had parted. There it was. This wasn't just some episode brought on by malnourishment and sleep deprivation; her name was _actually_ scribbled on the parchment. It was there. _She_ was there. And he was certain that it was _his_ Cho. He'd seen that extract signature many times before. Harry had often brushed his thumb across it after DA practice. He'd told Hermione he was just memorizing the names on the list, but he was sure his friend had seen right through the lie. Truth was, he'd developed that little quirk because he'd been helplessly smitten. His boyish infatuation had helped him memorize every curve of her name. It was a little embarrassing to remember, but he was actually glad he'd taken the time to memorize the signature.

"Mr. Pritchard, would you mind fetching me a cup of coffee?" The request earned him a puzzled look from his employee, but the boy happily obliged a second later.

As soon as he was certain that Pritchard was out of earshot, Harry lifted the picture beside the folder and placed it above her signature. _Merlin's beard_ , it was almost and exact match to one of the names on the picture. It could've been a coincidence. The rational part of his mind told him he shouldn't be excited over it, but the erratic pounding of his pulse drowned out logic. Finding a sliver evidence was apparently more important to him than he had previously realized. Concrete proof or not, this was enough for him to take action. Harry pushed his chair back and took a second to brush non-existent lint from the front of his pants. He couldn't believe his bloody luck. He'd been struggling to write a letter for a month, had wasted countless minutes in the shower practicing speeches so he would know exactly what to say when they finally met in person, and…had flopped miserably in those make-believe sessions. Now fate had conspired to make their lives collide and his treacherous mind had gone utterly silent.

"God," He exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt at making the unruly halo look presentable. "Please help me do this."

"Do what, Sir?" Pritchard entered the room looking perplexed, a cup of steaming coffee held in his hand. "Do you need me to fetch something else?"

"Spencer, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Chang to my office?" The man nearly staggered. Harry smiled wryly at the boyish enthusiasm on Pritchard's face and accepted the coffee he was offering. "She was a member of the DA and a faithful ally during the war. I'd like to catch up for a bit before she leaves."

"Yes, Sir." In his haste to leave Spencer almost forgot the case file on the desk. He looked redder than ever as he sheepishly took the file from Harry's hand and dashed out. "Right away, Sir."

It was a little strange to feel so oddly disproportionate as he left the desk and settled in front of it. His arms felt overtly long and thin inside the sleeves of his shirt and his feet were unnaturally heavy as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The entire thing seemed like something out of a dream. He was about to meet up with a woman he hadn't seen in more than a decade and he was about to ask her if she'd given him a son. He normally greeted guests while standing, but maybe a hasty retreat to his desk would be better. The piece of furniture was impressive. She might appreciate it if he looked formidable. Or would that be too intimidating? Maybe a casual stance in front of the desk would be better. He shoved his hand in his pocket, leaned back against the desk and almost slid off it as the fabric of his pants glided against the wood. Okay, maybe not that.

Harry had been about to push back the items at the end of his desk so he could sit at the edge when a hesitant knock rapped against the door. He wished he could remove his heart from his chest. The constant hammering against his ribcage was becoming terribly annoying. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to regain control of a body that seemed intent on betraying him. A balmy hand dragged across the back of his pants in case his posing fiasco had left wrinkles. Not that he actually expected her to stare at his arse. _Wait, would she_? A second knock stopped him from exploring the thought. He gave his pants one last pat, straightened his spine and called for the person hovering beyond the room to enter. It couldn't have been more than a second or two between the doorknob turning and the door opening, but it had felt like an eternity. Not that it mattered, really. The world stood still as she entered the room.

 _It should be a sin to look so pretty_. Especially when he wasn't feeling particularly confident about his own looks. Harry's insides squirmed as she closed the door behind her and squinted through the darkness. And, _Merlin_ , Cho really looked as good as when he'd first set eyes on her from across the Quidditch pitch. It made him feel strangely grateful for the abysmal light in his office. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and stepped closer, but she still looked a bit disoriented. Her eyes were probably adjusting to the abrupt change of light. He'd previously discussed adding better illumination to the office with Kingsley, but he hadn't followed through with the necessary paperwork afterwards. He was glad he hadn't. As nervous as Harry was, he couldn't help but to keep admiring how well she had aged…which made him feel a bit disillusioned with his appearance.

"Coffee?" Before he'd known it, Harry had jerkily extended the coffee towards her and somehow managed to slop half of the cup over the cuff of his shirt and sleeve in the process. _Shit_. "Sorry."

Cho had been reaching for it when he'd abruptly pulled it towards his chest, staining the front of his suit. How could silence be so deafening? They both stared at each other, not quite sure of what to do. He'd already bungled up his greeting. Was it too late to thank her for joining him in the office when it was probably an inconvenience and ask her how she was doing? Because he probably should've done that before stepping out of the shadows like a ghoul and offering some caffeine. He had probably spooked her. _Damn it_. Harry had been trained for a great number of scenarios when he'd first joined the DMLE, but broaching the topic of an unplanned pregnancy with his ex-girlfriend had not been one of them. He would've appreciated it if had been, though. It would make matters considerably less awkward between them. And his clothes would've probably been dry, too. Now that he thought about it, maybe inviting her into his personal office when he'd previously seen her without a stitch of clothing had not been wise. Ginny would explode and implode if she ever found out about the meeting.

But what the bloody hell was he supposed to do about the situation besides asking her? It wasn't as if he could simply send Cho an invitation to meet up somewhere like they were close friends when he'd simply turned his back on her. He'd sort of just pretended she had ceased to exist after their break up. It honestly hadn't been hard to do at fifteen. Yes, it had been a wretched thing for him to do, but he had stopped caring about the constant arguing at that point. Harry had desperately needed a break from the stressful things going around him and the relationship had only served to further complicate his life. At thirty-one, though, he honestly felt like the worst sort of arse for spending all his time staring at his best mate's little sister when the Ravenclaw sitting a few tables away had been quite possibly carrying his child. Or was it children? He swallowed thickly and offered her a strained smile.

"Harry...um…" Cho frowned and made a half-hearted attempt at pointing at his chest. "Harry, your tie is inside the coffee cup."

"Right." He stared at her. Cho returned the blank gesture for half a heartbeat until her words finally sank in. He looked down just in time to realize that his previously red tie was not only a deep shade of burgundy, but also sloping wet. " _Oh_."

"Um..." She watched but thankfully said nothing as he struggled to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket in order to dab feebly at the end of his tie. At least until the liquid bled through the thin cloth and into his already soiled cuff. "Why don't you use your wand?"

"Err, r-right." Harry wished the earth beneath his feet would open up and swallow him. His face a neon shade of red, he shuffled behind the desk to retrieve his wand and rid himself of the stains. "I, err...I'm sorry about all this."

"It's fine." She said quickly. He might even have believed her…had she not covered half of her face and made a great deal out of looking at the fireplace in the corner. Her bronzed cheeks were tinged with pink. _Oh, God,_ she was embarrassed _for_ him. "Harry, is Alex in trouble?"

"Alex." Harry realized he should've made an effort to read the case file before asking her to join him. He had absolutely no idea who _Alex_ was, but he hoped it was the same man whose last name had been on the bottom of the report he'd signed. "Mr. Murdoch has been cleared of all charges and should be able to leave after he signs a few documents."

"That's really nice to hear." She shifted uneasily on the spot, studied him cautiously for a moment, and cleared her throat when he said nothing. "So...um, I'm just going to head out then, yeah? I have a daughter anxiously waiting for me to get home. I promised her we'd go shopping for school supplies today."

"You're married, then?" _The news was hardly surprising. She_ had always been undeniably attractive and quite lovely to be around. "I'm married, too." A cringe-worthy attempt at clearing the air after his prying question. Where was a sinkhole when he needed one? "With Ginny. _To_ Ginny. Ron's sister."

Cho surprised him by laughing. She looked _really_ pretty when she laughed, and the melodic sound did weird things to his stomach. "Harry, everyone and their grandmother knows you're married."

"This might come as a bit of a shock to you, but I am absolutely wretched at making small talk." She laughed again and he found himself grinning despite the writhing mess beneath his ribcage. "Sorry."

"Oh, I am well aware of _that_." A twinkle of good humor shone in her eyes as she removed her hand from her jacket and turned it around for him to see. There _was_ a ring on her finger, but the silver band was emblazoned with the double T of the Tornadoes. "I'm divorced. Jonathon and I get along rather well, though. He's sort of my best friend, yeah?"

"Oh." He wished he hadn't asked. It had been a desperate attempt at keeping her there, but now he couldn't help but wonder why she had divorced her husband. Apparently they hadn't gotten along enough to _stay_ married, so he doubted he was the _fantastic little buddy_ she made him out to be. "So…how's the weather?"

 _Amazing_. He was talking about the bloody _weather_ now.

"It's London, Harry." Cho gave a derisive snort. "It was rainy yesterday, and sunny the day before that. It'll probably snow or something soon. I don't actually know. The Ministry's had us in the waiting room for hours since the incident."

"Yeah, they tend to do that here." Harry had experienced that unpleasantness firsthand during his youth. The Ministry wasn't particularly welcoming now that he worked in it, either. Still, his job did pay the bills and he rather enjoyed the idea of making the world a better place for his children. "It's a bit sad to admit, but you've probably spent more time outside in this past week than I have in the past three years."

"They keep you locked in here a lot?" Harry couldn't help but to feel rather pleased with himself when Cho crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs that faced his desk. "I was never thrilled with the idea of sitting behind a desk all day. It puzzled me to learn that you had decided on a career that would restrict your freedom after everything you've gone through."

"It seemed like a good match. It was the one thing I knew I could do." What he really meant by that was that he lacked the proper qualifications to work anywhere else and it was the only job he'd ever considered, but he was too embarrassed to admit to that. "They have me in management now. It's mostly paperwork unless they need me to show my face. Keeping up appearances. You know how it is."

"Hm." She closed her eyes and allowed her head to tip back against the chair for a second, the flickering candlelight of the office casting shadows over her features. "We try to show a united front, but Alex is spiraling. I want to believe he can change, but I have to stop thinking of him as a friend and do what's best for the team."

"I see." She sounded absolutely exhausted. The team had been in the waiting room for hours and the idea of going home was probably more appealing to her than chatting with him at the moment. He really should allow her leave. She'd been in there long enough. "So you coach the team?"

One eye cracked open to lazily look at him. "That _is_ the job title."

"How is it? Coaching, I mean." _And also, do you recall if I got you pregnant_? Harry's heart skipped a beat as the thought careened across his skull. He had no idea how he would breach the subject of the letter, but at least Quidditch would keep him afloat until he did. "Wood was dropped from Puddlemere United about a year after the war. I don't think anyone else from our term made the cut. Besides Ginny, that is."

"Like babysitting toddlers who can drink." His stomach did an odd flip as she smiled at him again. "I traded my spot in the reserve for the job. Quidditch wasn't as appealing after the war, but it was still difficult for me to give up completely. Now I just make sure the team gets their formations right and stay in tip-top shape. It pays well, so I can't complain much."

The opening he'd been waiting for dropped into his lap like a gift from the heavens.

"Oh." He wished he'd had some time to gather his thoughts before her arrival. All those practice speeches in the shower hadn't prepared him for this moment. The situation was less than ideal, but it wasn't as if he'd get another chance. "I bet your kids love having access to the games. Mine would."

"June doesn't seem to be as interested in it as I was at her age. She enjoys watching the games, though." A chime abruptly rang across the room and bounced around its paneled walls. Cho pulled back her sleeve, tapped on the watch on her wrist and offered him an apologetic smile. "I really must get going, Harry. It was nice talking to you."

"Uh…It was nice talking to you as well." _Just ask her already_. _Ask her if your liaison resulted in an unexpected pregnancy_. "Uh…hey, Cho?"

Cho's hand lingered on the doorknob for a second before dropping to her side. And, _Merlin_ , she looked so devastatingly pretty as she glanced back at him that his heart skipped a beat. "Hrm?"

 _Just ask her!_

The candlelight above their heads made the ring on her finger glimmer. It was no longer a wedding band, but it was still a stark reminder that she _had_ moved on. That there had been a life _after_ him. She had a daughter who was undoubtedly worried about Cho not making it home the previous night. Was it wise to bring up the past when they had both rebuilt their lives? Harry wasn't even sure of the letter's legitimacy. A niggling suspicion in the back of his skull did not warrant the hurt that would not doubt resurface if he asked about a child that might not even exist. He _really_ should let her leave.

Harry's fingers slipped into his pocket to brush against the letter. His obsessive perusal would eventually wear the lettering down to nothing. It would be as if he had never received it. As if the stranger who'd penned it had never existed. "Cho, did we have a baby?"

* * *

A/N: As always, thank you for taking the time to read. Thanks to Yuuki, SomeKindOfWildGirl for their help as well. I couldn't do this without you guys keeping me in check!


	5. Just Be Glad They Aren't More Letters

A/N: Chapter is live! :)

* * *

 _Dear Old Dad,_

 _It took me an absurd amount of time to figure out what it was I wanted to write here. See, I not so cleverly decided to take some time off before I wrote the letter, and in my defense, it really seemed like a sensible idea at the time. I even decided to oh-so-cleverly call it 'brainstorming', because making excuses to justify my laziness is just second nature at this point. It's just who I am, and I might as well accept this after fifteen years of enjoying the same nonsense. Anyways, I somehow managed to completely forget about it . Quite a surprise, I know. I'm still reeling from the shock._

 _So, here I am, hastily scribbling a letter at two in the morning while desperately hoping mum doesn't realize what I've done. The candle is burning out fast, though, and I think mum will eventually realize that my room is unusually dark. And since the towel I rolled and spread at the bottom of the door will probably be pushed out of the way by the lady of the manor soon, I might as well try and finish this. Maybe it won't read as half arsed as it looks, and they'll pass it around at my funeral._

 _First of all, I have no idea what I'm doing. I honestly think that this letter is just a complete waste of my time and my ink. Why do I absolutely HAVE to write this if I'm just going to burn it anyways? I'm not judging people who've done this and walked out feeling better about themselves, but how is writing a letter to an absent father and burning it supposed to help me feel better about anything? It's just so f- no, not going to curse. It's stupid, that's what it is. If I was really upset at someone for abandoning me, I'd probably only feel better about the situation if I set setting said person on fire. NOT THAT I WOULD, OBVIOUSLY. I know setting people on fire is bad. I was just trying to be funny, honest._

 _Now, where was I? Right, writing the letter. Well, I postponed writing this for as long as I possibly could without it affecting me. Maybe it was me thinking that this whole thing was useless. Maybe there's some deeper meaning behind my laziness this time that Mrs. Fawcett would be quick to notice and dutifully point out to me. She'd say something annoying, like maybe I was just afraid of what I would uncover about myself when I wrote the letter. Hm. Now there's something to think about. Maybe that last bit is actually true._

 _Well, like taking off a bandage, these things sting less when done quickly. So…_

 _I guess I didn't do the letter because I was waiting. Waiting for something in my life to change this summer. Maybe I'd finally get a letter explaining why you've never been here. Maybe a parcel would arrive carrying presents and a belated birthday card. I don't know. Maybe the phone would ring, and I'd get to hear your voice for the first time in my life. Or maybe you'd show up one day at our doorstep, and I'd get to look into the same colored eyes that people everywhere love to praise. I really don't know…I mean, it's been fifteen years. Why would anything change?_

 _Maybe Bug's mentality has rubbed off on me. She's just so enthusiastic and optimistic about life. I guess when you spend most of your days with your nose buried in books you don't realize how awful the real world really is. She really believes that everyone is capable of redemption. That if you try hard enough, you can just undo the mistakes you've made and it all gets better. But that's not how it works, is it? I don't have the heart to tell her that sometimes bad things happen to good people because other people decide to willingly inflict hurt, and nothing really makes that ache better. Why, one might even argue that bad things seem to mostly happen to good people._

 _Well, at least waiting was the only thing that happened to me. It just reminded me that things would never really change. Maybe I was a little disappointed at first, but I'm strangely okay with it now. I don't need a phone call or a token of your affection to know that I'm worth my weight in gold. I don't know what you look like or who you are, but I'm still here, Dad. There's really no use in dwelling in the negatives, so I am simply going to be thankful for my life and everything that has happened to make me the person I am today, laziness and all. Your absence is one of those things, I suppose._

 _Now, what should I say to the man who left everything behind?_

 _I feel like saying that I don't need financial support would be a good start. I know some men are, like, completely terrified of their bank accounts being drained by some kid they accidently shot out. Mum has a steady (and more than generous), income, and my brother and I work during the summer to add to our savings. It's just something to do during school breaks, really. Mum never really pushed us to pick up extra income but staying at home doing nothing seemed like a waste of time. So, we take up jobs whenever we can, and what we earn we get to keep. I mean, mum still manages my account. I have little to no self-control, and I am absolutely awful at not treating myself. Sorry, not sorry!_

 _If you're worried about my spending habits, don't. I'll stop when I get a proper job, I swear on these new boots that I probably really shouldn't have gotten. Uh, so, yeah. The reason why you shouldn't worry is because I am currently being pursued by some interested parties in the Quidditch world. *insert expletive of choice* yeah! It is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I am really excited about getting to play professionally. I managed to impress people who have been in the business for a very long time, and that is something to be proud of, dad. Yeah, mum's connections might've helped nudge them in my direction, but the skills are all mine. If I play my cards right, I might be able to land a job that will set me for life in a few years' time._

 _Secondly- wait, should this be the second bit? Maybe this was more important than the money thing. Okay, let's pretend that this was the first thing I said:_

 _I honestly want you to know that I'm not chastising you for the decisions you made as a teen. You and mum were both so young, and babies are so needy and exhausting. I can barely take care of myself right now, to be honest. If I somehow ended up with an unplanned pregnancy, it would most definitely derail my entire life. While it's not fair that mom had to step up and take over both roles, I can sort of understand why the thought of parenthood made you so nervous that you just decided to step away from it all._

 _I wish I had this long, interesting list of things to ask you, but I don't. I should've probably sat down and made said list long before the due date arrived. Eh. I would've lost it somewhere or left it unfinished, anyways. I could crack some jokes to make the letter seem longer than it is, but I think Mrs. Fawcett has some sort of enchantment to check for troubling things inside these letters, and that one tasteless fire joke is all I'm going to be able to squeeze through without setting off homicidal vibes. Again, not a pyromaniac. Or a serial killer. Or even a one-time killer. I generally enjoy other human beings, preferably dipped in oil, and with a slightly crunch to them._

 _Quick change of topic to celebrate a perfect joke? Yeah, I think it's about time._

 _Dad, I hope you have settled down since the whole incident with mum. I hope you found yourself a lovely woman, that you treat her like a queen, and are doing well. I hope you had beautiful babies together, and that you shower them with constant love and attention. They deserve that much from you, Dad. It's important to make your family feel loved and valued. I hope that you've put all your fears of commitment and family behind you, and that you've become the sort of man Mum once thought you to be._

 _You know what surprised me?_

 _I really didn't think this letter would be difficult to write, but it's been a challenge. Not because it triggered weird feelings of abandonment or anything, but because I'm not quite sure what it is that I'm supposed to feel for you. I'm unquestionably loved by my parents. I mean, I didn't even know my stepfather wasn't my biological father until my mother told me on the week of my tenth birthday. He's just brilliant, really. He's honestly the best dad a girl can ask for, and he's been by my side since I was in nappies. He filled your shoes like champion, Dad. I never felt abandoned._

 _It's irritating, really, how confused I am about this. I feel like I should at least show some sort of outward trauma about the fact that my father didn't want anything to do with me, but…I really don't. At least I'm not alone there. There are dozens of kids inside Hogwarts who are going through the motions as well. It's not just the by-blows from bad relationships, either. It's the kids who never hear or saw one parent after an ugly divorce. It's the kids who lost one or both parents in the war. It the kids who were born out of the terrifying events from the war that their mothers don't want to talk about. A little lost and missing something most others students have, we huddled together. Strength in numbers, right?_

 _We eventually called ourselves 'The Undaunted'. The conception of the group undid the rivalry between our houses, and forged friendships that would have otherwise been unlikely. The older students mentor the younger ones, and we get to encourage and accompany those who would be ostracized because of their inception. It doesn't matter if it all started out as false bravado, it's actually made a difference in the lives of so many kids that it is a little intimidating._

 _I'm part of the smaller group of Undaunted, the ones who aren't really overmuch affected by our unfortunate beginnings. The others, they try to pretend that they don't care, that losing someone was actually a boon, but you can tell it's a load of rubbish. It's hard to describe what's wrong with them. There's just this vast emptiness in their eyes…It's like a tangible void. They can't fill it, no matter how hard they try. And they don't get better with age, either. Like a bludger with no target, they just dart around aimlessly, lashing angrily at anything in their path._

 _It's heartbreaking to watch. And it's scary to think that I could've been one of them. I could have been just as lost. My brother, who seethes in silence when he thinks no one is watching, could've been one of them. His fury is cool, but productive. I can't say the same for some of our comrades. The Undaunted are a decidedly broken lot. And, like it or not, I guess I'm a little broken, too._

 _I can't help but to wonder what you would've thought of this. Who knows, maybe you're well-versed in the subject. It would make sense if you were. But would you really allow the cycle of neglect to repeat itself? I don't think you'd want your children to go through the same thing. You'd try to be better than your parents, right? You can't possibly be THAT awful._

 _My mother is way too clever to risk having kids with some random idiot she plucked from around the castle. The woman has some ridiculously daunting standards when it comes to the men in her life, too. I don't know if it's because you left a less-than-pleasant taste in her mouth and she stepped up her dating game, but she most certainly doesn't settle. The men we've met have been well educated, kind and charming. Were you the same? Or maybe you are the complete opposite of what she looks for in partners now. Were you too dashing to resist, then? Or did the eyes I inherited wear her down to the point of reckless abandon?_

 _What else did I get from you, Dad? My eyes, obviously, but what about your hair? Does it have the same strange growth patterns that mine has? What color is it? What about the texture? Do I have your skin tone or is my color a combination of mum and yours? Are the women in your family as tall as I am, or am I just weirdly lanky? What about my lip color? Am I anything like the people from your side of the family, or am I all mum, down to the freckles on my nose?_

 _Asking this is kind of funny, because I used to not care about any of this. Now that I'm actually writing it, it's all I can think about._

 _This not-relationship between us feels like a pair of shackled with no keys. I'll never rid myself of it, will I? It would be so much easier on me if my story wasn't so horrendously cliché. I want to be special, I do, but I'm really just the product of a girl who thought that she had found true love with some immature leech, and she didn't realize she'd made a mistake until it was too late. It's so stupid and unoriginal that barely anyone cares about kids like me anymore. I don't think I've ever been shunned for being a by-blow. At least I'm not stigmatized, I suppose._

 _Does that make you feel better, Dad? Do you sleep better at night knowing that bustards are accepted- expected, even- in today's society? Do you not feel guilty about leaving us because of that? Because, guess what, it really doesn't help me feel better. Acceptance just means my life is slightly more tolerable as a bastard now than it would've been years ago. And acceptable doesn't fill the void that you left in my mother or my brother when they realized they weren't a good enough for you to stay. You should've been there for us, okay?_

 _I know people say that you can't miss what you never had, but those people can get fucked. Only now do I realize that I did miss you. My brother and I missed you when we babbled our first words. We missed you when we took out first steps. We missed when mum had to juggle the two of us while teaching us how to ride our brooms. I never got to figure out what I wanted from a relationship by watching you and mum. You weren't there to patch my brother up when he sliced his cheek while shaving for the first time. We missed you a thousand times over and we didn't even realize it. The man I called my father was not my father, just an honorable man with enough space in his heart to claim us after our real father abandoned us._

 _I don't want to devalue everything my stepfather has done for me by claiming it wasn't enough for me. He is the most amazing man I know, and I wouldn't have my sister if he and mum hadn't met. I love my family, but I missed you. You weren't there to see me off when I left for Hogwarts. I didn't write to you when I felt both elated and afraid after I got sorted into Ravenclaw. Some fathers wept as they watched the Hogwarts express fade into the distance, and you weren't even there to wave us goodbye. Dad, we looked at these families as they hugged their children and realized at eleven years old that, wow, we were never going to have that. I'm not too proud to admit that it stings when I think about it._

 _Doe you even care that another man holds your title? That mum managed to replace you after you threw her life into disarray? Maybe you don't. Maybe you never wanted to teach us how to ride our brooms or help mend the cuts left behind by a clumsy first attempt at shaving. But you should at least feel something when you finally realize that the seeds you planted by accident during your youth managed to sprout without your attention. We're here and doing well without you._

 _This would probably be confusing for you. It's a little confusing for me, too. I have all these questions and no one to answer them. But maybe that's not a bad thing. I might not like what you have to say about me._

 _That doesn't change the fact that your actions had consequences. What happened after you and mum got together dictated how I would eventually turn out. If something had changed, I wouldn't be the person I now am if you had stayed. Thank you for that. Because maybe you weren't ready to settle down and play the part, and I could've grown up in a miserable home. Because maybe you had all sorts of deep-rooted issues and decided that letting go of mum was what was best for everyone involved. And I don't know if all of this is really true, but it might be. If it is, I'm proud of you, Dad. By sacrificing your place in our lives, you gave us the gift of a stable, loving home._

 _I've spent so much time on this letter that it almost feels like a waste to burn it._

 _What would happen if I actually sent you this letter? I'm curious. Would the owl be able to find you, even if I don't know who you are? Would you take a minute of your time to read it? Would you toss it out once you realized what it means? Merlin knowns how your new family would react if they found out you have two nameless savages running around. I, however, want to believe that you'd keep the letter somewhere safe. Always on your person, close to your heart. Maybe the letter would make you feel a little closer to the family you never got to keep. You wouldn't have to reply, honest. I just wanted you to know that you did good. It doesn't matter if it was an accident, you helped us become a family. Take credit for this and be at peace, Dad._

 _I don't want you to let what you did eat at your conscious. Mum is successful on her own. Believe me when I say that she enjoys the perks that came with the freedom you gave her. And I bet you're much happier, too. Isn't that better than being hit with the old ball and chain at sixteen? Fifteen years have passed since you parted ways. There are no walls to break down, no burnt bridges to mend. Feel free to just slide comfortably back into the routine you have with your new family. We've made it this far without your help, and we'll continue to exceed expectations on our own._

 _I might've been a bit peeved earlier, but I promise I'm not bitter. Not anymore. Being angry at you would almost feel like being angry at mum. It's not your fault things ended the way they did. You both made your choices. I love my mother and everything she has done for me. I wouldn't be who I am had she decided to pursue the relationship after it first collapsed; and I really, really like who I am. I guess this means I love you a little, too. Well, since I might love you a little and we seem to be happy, maybe we should leave it at that. You stay with your new family, and I'll stay with mine. We don't have to bother ourselves with apologies or make up for lost time. Our lives will go on unchanged, Dad._

 _I'll end this letter by saying that I can't change the things- both good and bad- that I've inherited from you. I will always be your daughter. I carry your legacy in my eyes. I appreciate inheriting the height, sweet tooth and reckless streak my sister doesn't seem to share. And I hope you've found happiness, Dad. Everyone deserves that much._

 _Warm Regards,_

 _Your Daughter, The Undaunted._

* * *

A/N: Chapter 5 done!


	6. The Problem With Good Intentions

A/N: I kind of got sidetracked with another story idea. Sorry for the delay! I hope the update makes the wait sort of worth it? Thanks for your time- and feedback, for all those who reviewed. I greatly appreciate your encouragement. :) Edit: Rewrote the second half of the chapter entirely. Hope it's better!

* * *

 _Sneaking around Hogwarts with a High Inquisitor nipping at your heels every step of the way was not recommended, but it had totally been worth it that night._

 _Stupid grin still in place and school uniform askew, Harry Potter ran a hand through dark hair that looked messier than usual and watched as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. Ignoring the look of complete disapproval on the plump face of the portrait's subject, he poked his head inside the threshold and carefully examined his surroundings._

 _The flames of the fireplace had grown dim, casting long shadows over the large furniture ahead. It was the perfect ambience for studying for an upcoming test or finishing up a particularly grueling essay without interruptions. Not so much for pussyfooting his way up to the boy's sleeping quarters unnoticed. Harry pushed the large glasses that had been inching down across the bridge of his nose back to their original position and squinted. The common room looked positively deserted. He'd been a bit concerned about being spotted while on his way to bed, but his worry had apparently been for naught. He cautiously lifted one foot over the bottom of the portrait and was about to do the same with the other when something stirred in the shadows._

 _"Where were you?"_

 _His foot caught on the edge of the frame and nearly sent him headfirst into one of the plush sofas scattered about the room. "Uh…"_

 _"Ron's already upstairs." Hermione. Relief washed through his system as he searched for the owner of the disembodied voice. "He wanted to wait for you but then he started nodding off."_

 _"Err, yeah. Sorry about that." His best friend had- almost suspiciously- selected a couch in the darkest corner of the common room. The pale moonlight that streamed through the window beside her seat barely managed to illuminate the table in front of the windowsill. "I'll just head up, then."_

 _"Where were you, Harry?" He'd been about to turn away when she asked again. Her voice was firmer, a touch more demanding this time. "It's two in the morning."_

 _"Three." As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Harry winced. Antagonizing Hermione by correcting her was not a wise move. Not unless he was eager to play 'Rita Skeeter and unwilling victim of one of her interviews' with his friend, and he was not in the mood for an hour-long interrogation session. "I…um…just saw it on a clock on my way here."_

 _"Okay." Like a specter from a muggle horror movie, Hermione's hand slowly apparated from the shadows to set her quill on the inkpot atop the table. Resigned, Harry turned back to her and moved closer. "It's three in the morning. What were you doing, Harry?"_

 _"I, uh…" He'd been on his back atop a pile of comfortable cushions with his incredibly beautiful, incredibly naked girlfriend astride him. "I was walking."_

 _"Walking." The word was drawn out, the tone flat. Harry suddenly felt as he had while on trial just months before. One wrong word and he'd be getting a lengthy and undoubtedly embarrassing lecture about intimacy from his equally embarrassed friend. "Why?"_

 _Why? He hadn't really thought the excuse through. Now that he did, Harry realized how incredibly dimwitted it had been. With Draco and his cavemen trolling the halls on Umbridge's behalf, it would be stupid of him to not take his invisibility cloak while out and about at night. "I needed some time alone to think."_

 _"You needed six hours to think?" The fireplace suddenly came alive with a flick of her wand. Hermione sat on the lonely couch in the corner, a ridiculously long sheet of parchment drooping from the arm of her chair to its clawed feet. A curled-up Crookshanks purred happily from her lap. "Couldn't you have done that here? Or upstairs, in the boy's dorm room?"_

 _"With Ron complaining about school, his non-existent love life and everything in-between?" Happy about moving away from the half-truths he'd been stammering out, Harry dropped on the couch in front of her and scoffed. "Not bloody likely."_

 _"I suppose that makes sense." She reached back for her quill, paused to scratch idly at the bridge of her nose with her finger and smiled as her cat's head snapped up to stare at the feather. "You should go to bed, Harry."_

 _"I will." He stood up and ran his hands across his hair and the front of his shirt, hoping she hadn't previously noticed how disheveled his clothing had been before his actions. "Goodnight, Hermione."_

 _"Harry…" Something in her voice made his stomach clench. A stab of panic bubbled in his chest, and he bit his tongue in case another bleak excuse found its way to his mouth. "Ah, never mind. Sleep well."_

 _"Err...yeah. You too."_

* * *

He might be in trouble.

Neville walked the length of his personal office, wholly oblivious to the smattering of items in the room that typically brought him comfort. The gleaming Remembrall by the lone window in the room, a gift from his grandmother after losing his first one. The leather sofa he'd frequented as a student that McGonagall had generously brought down from the common room when he'd accept the job at the castle. Even the picture of his smiling parents that hung above the fireplace mantel, the faces within the frame as familiar as his own…

With a deep breath, Neville lifted his quivering hands and pressed his fingers to his eyes. The work-roughened pads sank deep, and the ocular migraine that had stirred him from his sleep was momentarily stifled. It was a temporary cure to his problem, much like the mechanical pacing that he'd been doing after stumbling out of his chair. With a few comforting pats to his face and another sigh, he shifted his gaze to the world outside his window.

The sun had not yet fully settled into the sky. He could make out a bright expanse with patches of translucent clouds beyond the grimy glass of the window. A cursory glance at the clock behind the desk revealed it to be ten. Inwardly, he groaned. It was much too early for him to show up for lunch, and far too late to join the rest of the castle staff for breakfast. With his stomach demanding all but a sacrifice, he turned to eye the glass decanter resting on the chair by the fireplace with longing.

"Oh, Merlin's balls." He said under his breath, fingers itching to reach for the bottle. "Why do you always drag me into situations like these, Harry?"

While he found the thought of walking over to the container extremely seductive, he knew that drinking would potentially jeopardize his mission. If his coworkers caught a whiff of the stiff beverage on him after he finally made his way down to The Great Hall, they would head on over to McGonagall with the news. He couldn't risk exposure. Not when he carried in his pocket something that might potentially get him sacked. Unfortunately for the young Herbology Professor, the option of knocking back what was left of his Firewhisky was not on the table that morning.

"It's not that hard to keep it inside your pants." He grumbled irritably as he turned on his heels and resumed his pacing. "You could've just not finished in her."

In truth, Neville knew that his anger was misdirected. Harry Potter's weak pull-out game was not what had him on edge that morning, but the fact that he'd promised his wife that he'd be free of his drinking habit by the end of the year. Neville had unhurriedly been emptying the stash he kept inside his office throughout the year. The Firewhisky decanter had been the only remaining survivor of his purge. He'd even considered gifting it-just to be done with the process already- but his plans had been cut short the moment Harry's letter had arrived. Now he simply used the potent liquor to quell the onset of shakes that randomly struck him.

It incensed him to feel so helplessly out of control. It had taken nearly three years to hold some semblance of sway over the drinking, and to fall off the rails so easily stung a little. Neville had thought himself stronger than that. He'd been taking steps to change his bad habits, to become the husband he knew his wife deserved. He should've been that man by December. If that letter had never arrived…if he'd just been smart enough to decline Harry's request, maybe things would've been different. Maybe he'd be over at the Cauldron right now, trying his best to convince his wife to join him upstairs instead of drowning the nervous tremors that racked him. And he lamented his vacuous loyalty.

That didn't mean Neville felt no sympathy for his friend. Harry had gotten himself into quite the predicament. He truly hoped that the man would find peace after the issue was resolved. But Neville was aware that he was far too old to be caught up in things that had nothing to do with him. His own demons left him more than drained enough at the end of the day. To tangle with someone else's would postpone his own issues, but exacerbate them as well. The smart thing to do, the courageous thing to do, would've been to politely explain why he couldn't help and hope for the best. Harry worked for the Ministry now. Surely his friend was astute enough to realize that demanding anything from the Headmistress would result in a severe scolding from the Minister or worse….right?

He released a snort of disbelief. "Right."

Harry Potter was more than capable of blowing the doors to the castle wide open, striding inside like a preening rooster and demanding the list. The man had the irksome habit of acting impetuously when pressed. Neville had no doubt that Harry had been quietly steaming, fighting the desperate need to take matters into his own hands while Neville searched for evidence. It wasn't stupidity that drove Harry. The man was simply passionate about everything he did. Harry had always done what he felt was right, and if he felt pushed to go to Headmistress herself for the identity of the child who'd penned the letter, Harry Potter would do just that.

A sliver of remorse swept up his spine at the thought of being involved in such a scandalous situation, but Harry's unfortunate fondness for trouble had convinced Neville to provide him with some support during his endeavor. If not for the lauded Boy-Who-Lived, then for his clueless wife. Ginny had always been warm and kind to Neville. They weren't very close- Neville was much too guarded for that to happen- but she had done her best to make him feel accepted. The thought of her being hurt by her husband's mistakes was not pleasant to the fair-haired Gryffindor. And if he could not completely shield her from the suffering that would follow, Neville could at least postpone it by aiding Harry.

He briefly wondered why he was so preoccupied with someone else's wife when his was just as likely to be wounded by the secrecy. His fingers speared through the sweat-soaked hair on his head and gripped at the closely-cropped strands. "Merlin, Hannah's going to kill me."

If the woman he'd married found out about his folly, she'd probably hand him over to Filch and have him strung up by his unmentionables. The war had left her husband with more than his share of deep-rooted problems, but Hannah had always been gentle and understanding. He wasn't so sure she'd be half as understanding if he ever confessed that he'd known about Harrys love child before news broke out. Neville's actions meant that he'd made a conscious decision to risk his job and their life together just because Harry had scratched an itch with an ex-girlfriend. Even the most understanding of wives might have a hard time wrapping their head around that faulty logic.

Honestly, he'd rather dive into a pit of starving Dementors than face her. Hannah would probably dump all his belongings outside of the Cauldron and permanently ban him from their home. He deserved it, too. What kind of husband risked his livelihood on a dodgy request from a man who'd become more acquaintance than friend through the years? His help might make him a good ally, but it also marked him as a poor spouse. Last he'd checked, it was Hannah who had made life after loss bearable, who warmed his bed at night and filled his soul with happiness, not Harry Potter. And how was he repaying her? With poorly conceived lies.

It just that…well, Harry _never_ asked for help unless he absolutely _needed_ it. With Ron and Hermione being out of the question for reasons that Neville wholly understood, Harry had been left with no choice but to reach out to _him_. Harry deserved the blame for this mess, he really did, but the man was falling apart. Criminals he could deal with, but approaching the possible mother of his child and their offspring required a little more finesse. Finesse that Harry very well knew he did not possess. And The-Boy-Who-Lived had looked an absolute mess when they had met at the Cauldron that first time…

Neville shook his head and swallowed the knot at his throat. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to keep lying to his wife. He was going to have to stick to the excuse he'd produced about having met Harry at The Cauldron by happenchance. He would later find a way to make it up to Hannah. Until then, Neville would keep informing Harry of where and when he could send his letters. It would minimize the chance of having his wife find out about their problem. He would also need a steady supply of alcohol to keep his nerves from swaying while he was doing it. After he finished the job, he'd make everything better again. He just had to do his part and do it swiftly.

So maybe he wasn't in trouble.

 _Maybe_ , he thought as he bit on what was left of his nail after a night of anxiously biting them, _maybe they wouldn't notice that the picture was gone_. A fresh wave of stress coursed through him, and he nearly suffered from a coronary when a loud growl echoed in the room. Sheepishly, he realized that the sound had come from the depths of his stomach. He'd accidently skipped breakfast and was well on his way to skipping lunch. The Firewhisky he'd sipped on the previous night meant that he craved something fatty to settle his squirming insides, and since the rest of his colleagues were unaware of his little nighttime escapades, Neville considered chancing a trip to the kitchens.

The series of hallways discreetly hidden from view by unassuming bookshelves, tapestries and portraits across the castle mean that he could very well make his way down unnoticed. He would often drop by the kitchen to chat up the elves and to satisfy his cravings at night. The bright, hard-working kitchen staff would be more than happy to fetch him something before lunch. He could nab a sandwich and return to his quarters without anyone ever realizing it. Yeah, a stack of half-a-dozen sandwiches sounded delightful. He was on his way to the door when a horrible thought struck him. _What if he ran into McGonagall?_

The insidious question had him shuffling in the direction of the leather chair by the fireplaced and collapsing into it. He had barely scraped by when Hannah had asked him about his unusual meeting with Harry. He had only survived the counter because his wife was trusting and he had always been honest with her about his problems. But his old Head of House was a different beast to tackle. Those intense eyes of hers could see through anyone. Neville had always been a bit nervous around her. If she thoroughly questioned him, he had no doubt that he'd blurt something unfortunate out and give away the whole thing.

 _Damnit all_ , he wasn't good at this spying thing. Neville had surprised himself by working well under pressure during the final year of the war, but that was only because he'd had a medley of close friends and acquaintances backing him up as they waited for Harry to return. The results of this mission rested squarely on his shoulders, and they were already sagging under the weight of the burden. He exhaled shakily and dragged a hand across the underside of his jaw before dragging his eyes to the scrap of parchment spread over the small table by his seat.

 _ **Neville**_ **,**

 _ **I don't know what to do. I've half a mind to send a letter and see what happens, but what if it turns out to be a horrible mistake and word of our relationship somehow gets out? It would ruin our lives. How am I going to explain to the wife that I've just spent a month obsessed with my ex-girlfriend because I thought I might've gotten her pregnant? I don't want her to think I'm having an affair or that I regret our marriage. I think she's starting to get suspicious, though.**_

 _ **Have you managed to find evidence of...well, anything? I haven't heard from you since we met last Friday and I'm beginning to feel restless. Again, I'm sorry for pressuring you. I know this can't be easy for you to do. But if you could just find something, anything, it would help immensely.**_

 _ **Anyways, lunch break is over and I need to get back to work. Please, please let me know if you find anything, Neville. I'll be in my office until eight. If you manage to get something before then, feel free to drop by so we can discuss it. Ask for me at the desk and they should let you in without a problem. Again, thank you for your help, old friend.**_

 _ **Best of luck,**_

 _ **-H**_

This last letter had arrived just as Neville had been making his way down to greenhouse. His budding Mandragoras needed steady supervision, and he had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't seen Harry's new owl swoop in until it had dropped the letter on his head and flown away with a smug hoot. A bit unamused with the creature, he'd flipped the envelope open and swiftly scanned the contents of the letter. As much as Neville wanted to take credit for the idea that had begun to flicker inside his skull like a lightbulb, he knew that the sudden interruption was to blame for jolting him out of his harried state of mind…and into a new, more productive one.

Neville had been so focused on all the things _he_ had to do by _himself_ that he hadn't realized he'd had an unlikely ally within the castle walls. The Head of the Ravenclaw house had always harbored a soft spot when it came to him. After a clumsy start, Herbology had always been where Neville had excelled while at school. He hadn't been an exemplary student in Charms, but his unrepentant tenacity as he tried to keep up with his classmates had endeared him to the pint-sized professor. It hadn't been difficult for him to ask his old teacher to guide him through a tour of the tower. Flitwick never questioned his motives, simply chalking them up to curiosity. Neville Longbottom, after all, had always been _harmless_.

The tour of the Ravenclaw's nest had been completely overshadowed by the fact that Neville had been searching the room for _something_. He couldn't remember half of what Flitwick had told him about his beloved house and even less of what had surrounded them as they walked through the rooms. Still, Neville did feel a little guilty about lying to his old professor just to gain access to the password he had later used to sneak into the room. He would've never been able to solve the riddle on his own, though. And the Professor would probably understand why he'd done what he'd done, right? Because doing something a little wrong to do a lot of good was a noble cause, right?

"Sure..." Neville grimaced, crumpled the letter up and tossed it in the direction of the fireplace. "I should be sanctified."

He watched as the parchment was quickly consumed by the fire until it was little more than a pile of glowing embers at the bottom of the stone floor. Burning the letter was a simple precaution. Neville had not outgrown his habit of forgetting things. His offspring would've probably inherited it, as well. Merlin knew he'd suffered enough ridicule because of it. Passing it on to a poor child was not something he wanted. He still despised his unfocused nature, but admitted it had also made him warier. Ridding himself of Harry's letters after he read them guaranteed they would not be misplaced, and that his friend's woes would not be discovered by someone whose intentions were less than noble than his.

At this point, it was better to be safe than sorry. If word ever got out that he was helping the absent father of one of his students gather intel on his child, he'd be booted before he could blink. Delivering information to anyone but their legal guardians was illegal. While the rules said nothing about showing pictures of them to old friends, he was sure that the parents would have a few choice words for him for doing it. McGonagall would probably throttle him. He'd stolen _two_ pictures from the Ravenclaws, and that the second one he'd snatched from inside their common room. _Playing with fire_ was much to tame of a phrase for what he'd done.

Neville sagged deeper into the comforts of his chair and considered the acquisition. The stupid decision to nab a picture from the student board in the tower was one he hoped would ultimately pay off. It wasn't like the image had ' _Harry Potter's bastard kids_ ' in glowing print scribbled at the back, but at least their faces were visible this time around. Their eyes were unfortunately hidden behind the large, tinted goggled that were now mandatory for all players during quidditch games, but the faces in the image were cleanly displayed. He just wished he could remember what Cho Chang looked like.

He had no doubt that Harry would know her, however. While tales of his bravery had been greatly exaggerated and he'd been embarrassed by them more than once, Harry Potter was still one of the bravest men Neville had ever met. Which made the gentle awkwardness of his infatuation with the pretty Ravenclaw seeker amusing. His green eyes had been glued to her since their match during his third year, and he'd spent three years hopelessly smitten with her. Neville had always found Harry's sudden lack of interest in her after the Edgecombe incident a smidge puzzling. Yes, her friend was ratted the DA while under duress from Umbridge, but the pretty Asian wasn't to blame for that.

With Harry's own questionable choices in friends, it was a bit ironic that he'd decided to cut ties with her over something that could be easily excused and forgiven. Marietta's mother had been threatened, and Umbridge had proven that she was not above torturing people to obtain what she wanted. Anyone in the DA could've been forced into exposing the group, Neville included. To blame someone for protecting a person they loved when the threat of death was very real was ridiculous. And now that he knew Harry had done more than just snog Chang, he couldn't help but to feel sorry for the girl. Harry had always been a tad inconsiderate, but dumping his girlfriend after sleeping with her struck Neville as cruel.

"No wonder the bastard is all torn up about it." He stuck his middle and index finger inside the pocket of his robes and plucked the picture out, pausing midway to properly unfurl it. "Poor girl."

Years of teaching and a brain that had not always been reliable meant that he could not recognize most of the faces in the picture. The children that gathered in the greenhouse changed constantly, and they came in waves. Unlike Hermione Granger, most students refused to make themselves stand out in the crowd. The Ravenclaws had always been particularly submissive during lectures. Neville brushed a thumb across each face and squinted, trying in vain to make their names materialize. To his dismay, he only recognized Wentworth, and only because the boy had made a habit out of staying behind his group so he could fall asleep outside the greenhouse while the lesson took place. He concluded that the other kids were punctual, polite and nearly invisible to him.

Neville rolled up the photo and deposited it back inside the safety of his pocket. It was up to Harry to decide if one of the kids resembled him enough to make the proper inquires to their mother. If everything went smoothly, Neville would deliver the letter to his friend at the Ministry of Magic, where Harry would make a copy of the image as he had done the first time, and then Neville would have the picture back in the Ravenclaw tower before Flitwick realized it was gone. There would be no harm done. All Neville had to do was set the time and place for their meeting and his end of the bargain would be completed. The uplifting thought was enough to brighten Neville's surly disposition.

"Mr. Longbottom?" McGonagall's prim voice echoed in the hallway beyond his door. "I need to speak with you."

"Oh…" The curse that followed the word died in his throat. His clothes were a wrinkled, stained mess and he reeked of spilled alcohol. Neville hastily cleared the smudges with his wands and ran his fingers thought his hair as he tried to put the errant strands back in their place. "I'm coming, Professor." He dashed across the room, took a deep breath and smiled as he opened the door. "Is something the matter?"

Her eyes, so unnervingly intense behind her spectacles, regarded him for a few seconds. Much to his relief, her lips quirked at the ends. "Are you planning on visiting your wife today?"

"Yes." The answer came out without thinking, and he hoped he didn't look half as guilty as he felt. But, _Merlin_ , she wasn't there about the bloody picture. His relief was so great it surprised him he hadn't melted into a puddle at her feet. "I overslept. I was about to fetch my hat before heading out."

"Good." From the wide sleeve of her robes came a small envelope. She extended her hand in his direction and he took the letter without pause. "I would appreciate it if you could gather a few things at Flourish and Blotts for me."

"Of course, Ma'am." He dropped the letter in his pocket and made a note of being careful when he removed it at the book store. The last thing he needed was for the picture to fall out while he was running unplanned errands for his employer. He hadn't counted on leaving the castle that day, but did he really have a choice now? "I'll make sure to bring your items back with me when I return."

"Good." She stepped aside and gestured for him to join her. Neville plucked his hat from the peg at the back of the door and joined her. As he shut the door behind him, he realized that the impromptu trip might not be a bad thing. He could take a moment to visit Harry at the Ministry before picking up McGonagall's things. "I hope you enjoy your afternoon, Mr. Longbottom."

He didn't know what to say to that. Usually when he visited Hannah…he somehow managed to stop the embarrassed heat at his neck from spreading to his face. "I'll see you later, Professor."

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom." Relieved, he squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back with a sigh. "Oh, and Neville?"

"Er…" She usually only used his first name when she scolded him. He smiled nervously as she glanced over her shoulder and returned the gesture. "Yes?"

Thin eyebrows arched high on her weathered brow. " _Do_ finish that bottle of Firewhisky, but I fully expect your office to be free of alcohol by the start of the new semester."

His ears sizzled all the way to Diagon Alley.

* * *

A/N: An update at last! I have to admit that the next chapter will be...interesting to write. Thanks again to my friends for helping me rant about my ideas until one of them sticks. You guys rock! :D


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